


The Time(s) Of Our Lives

by QueenOfNewOrleans22



Series: The Silent Cries [11]
Category: Guns N' Roses
Genre: Drug Addiction, Kissing, M/M, Past Abuse, Romantic Fluff, Strip Poker
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-23
Updated: 2020-07-23
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:41:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,291
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25455631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenOfNewOrleans22/pseuds/QueenOfNewOrleans22
Summary: Duff and Slash play an enhanced game of poker, while Izzy calls an old friend.
Relationships: Duff McKagan/Slash
Series: The Silent Cries [11]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1823191
Comments: 4
Kudos: 15





	The Time(s) Of Our Lives

"What do you wanna do? C'mon, man, this is starting to get real boring here." Slash, with his guitar sprawled across his lap, leaned against Duff and nudged him with his shoulder, lips twisted into a half smile and dark eyes bright. Duff could smell Slash's cologne, a sharp, almost tantalizing smell, and the shampoo he used, an oddly fruity smell that was so unlike the guitarist and his usual tastes that Duff almost laughed, instead shrugging and setting aside the book he'd been trying to read. No use, now. He never could get any work done when he was around his friends, much less Slash, who had this special way of making anybody be drawn to him, like moths to a single glowing light, dangling from the ceiling. "I dunno. Not much to do when it's so cold that you'd probably freeze to death before you so much as stepped a foot outside." He smirked, but Slash only huffed and set aside his guitar, placing it on the couch, so that he could comfortably wrap his arms around Duff in a mom, unbothered by anything that had previously held him back. It was a nice change from the Slash that Duff had known previously, and the sight of him- so shockingly similar to the person he was previously, like he was slowly returning to normal- never failed to make Duff's heart start beating a million miles per hour. 

It was below freezing outside, a rarity for California, and snowing quite heavily. Duff hadn't been disappointed when he'd come to the realization that it was too dangerous to drive back home, and was effectively stuck with Slash for lord knows how long. "We don't have to outside, Duff, where's your imagination?" Slash said, as if the blonde was an idiot of epic proportions. "We have everything we need in this wonderfully heated house." With that, Slash stood and started walking away, disappearing down the hall without another word. Whatever he'd gotten stuck in that bizarre head of his, Duff's fate was already sealed, and, to be honest, it wasn't too bad, being stuck in this house and being subjected to Slash's odd, and occasionally dangerous, hobbies. 

Standing up, Duff followed his friend, lover, whatever the hell Slash was nowadays, down into the depths of the house, beyond the rooms where the snakes and all those others horrific animals were kept, down a staircase, all while the guitarist in front of him hummed under his breathe and glanced behind him, to ensure that Duff was still following behind. In the basement, there was a large bookcase with shelves upon shelves of boxes. Duff peered at each and every one with a curious gaze, unsure what they were doing here. Okay, maybe he should've been a little more concerned as to what Slash had been hiding up his sleeve. His eyes hidden, but his lips beginning to pull up at the edges, Slash dug through one of the boxes and pulled out a deck of cards wrapped together, held close by a rubber band. Slash waved it in the air in an attempt to be enticing. It didn't work. "You want to play poker?" Duff said, raising his eyebrows, a little surprised. 

A look of playful mischief crossed Slash's expressive face. "Not just any game of poker." He said cheerfully. " _Strip_ poker." 

Half amused, half startled, and more than a little confused, Duff observed the deck of cards and couldn't help but feel his own smile forming. "Why?" He asked. There was a distant memory, floating in the haze of years gone by, in which Duff could remember gathering in a loose circle with the rest of the guys, back when they were all one and whole, and playing strip poker because they were young, drunk and probably more than a little exhausted after so much touring and running around on stage. Duff had probably been on cocaine or some shit, and so it was a very hazy remembrance, but he could vividly recall Slash backing out of the game, citing a headache and saying he wanted to go sleep. Back then, Duff hadn't thought much of it. Now, he knew the truth of why Slash had refused to play. "Is this your way of trying to get into my pants?" He asked jokingly, except maybe it wasn't a joke. 

"Would you be complaining if I was?" Slash asked, tilting his head like a curious little puppy. Duff was struck by the expressiveness of his face, how little he seemed to have aged in the years since they'd first gotten together. Slash had always been handsome, incredibly so, but there was something different now, a word, a feeling, that Duff couldn't name, but could feel brimming in his chest. "Maybe not." He answered coyly. "Maybe I'd enjoy it." And that, apparently, was good enough for Slash. 

Two and a half hours later, with the A.C cranked up and the sun beginning to set over the horizon, Duff had lost most of his clothing because Slash was either too good at cards for his own good or perhaps he was cheating, either way, it was decidedly enjoyable and seeing Slash catch little glances at his torso made for good entertainment. "You seem to have lost everything except your socks and boxers. I don't know whether to take pity or what." Slash said, stifling a laugh with the back of his hand. He'd managed to keep on most of his clothing, save for his shoes and socks. "Look at you, this is the most fun I've had in weeks." 

Duff snorted, not the slightest bit shy with his nakedness. "If that's the case, then you must have a pretty boring life." He replied, nudging Slash's leg with his foot. "You have to at least take your jacket off, this is unfair." Duff added after a lengthy pause. He fingered the sharp edge of the card on his right side and heard that oh so familiar laugh, the most beautiful sound in the world. "You ready to make that a bet, Duffy?" He said, leaning foward, his cards clutched tight. There was a tone in his voice, a look on his face, that suggested something much better than any sort of bet. 

Leaning foward, Duff quickly caught Slash into a kiss, tasting mint and some of the chocolate that Slash had been eating earlier, wondering if he'd moved too fast, too harsh, when Slash tensed like he was about to pull away, but then the guitarist deepened the kiss, reaching out to grasp at Duff's hand, and Duff couldn't have asked for anything more. Not on this cold night, away from the world's troubles, with Slash by his side. 

This night couldn't get any better.

=====

It was now or never. 

Izzy couldn't lose his nerves, otherwise he'd never call, never talk again with the man whom he once called his best friend, and there would be nobody but himself to blame. Izzy was not a coward, but sitting at his kitchen table, feeling his heart beat so fast that it actually hurt, the idea of making a simple phone call, nothing more, nothing less, was utterly terrifying. There would be no harsh rejection, if his friend were to pick up, but that didn't mean it made it any easier. 

Over ten years ago, they said goodbye. Now, Izzy would call and hope, somehow, someway, they could push aside any and every difference and mend what had been broken. And so, he dialed the number that Slash had given him, pressing the phone to his ear, listening to the telltale dial tone, and then a click. "Hello?" 

A voice, a sound, so achingly familiar. "Hi, Steven." 


End file.
